Between Friends
by Lucille Lee
Summary: A simple Severus-Hermione; Draco-Pansy story and how their lives entwine when it becomes Draco-Hermione.


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**BETWEEN** **FRIENDS**

: _Lucille_ _Lee_

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_CHAPTER 1_

_DISAGREEMENTS_

o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco slowly opened the door of the girls' dormitory. He was damn glad that his father had taught him the spell that would allow him to walk up the stairs to their dorm. It was another matter that Lucius Malfoy had been angry that Draco couldn't figure out something so 'simple' on his own.

He looked over the forms of the girls, wholly enveloped in Morpheus' arms. As he had suspected, Pansy wasn't there.

He closed the door noiselessly and went back to the Common-Room.

It was obvious that she was wandering about the castle. Salazar knew how many points she would cause them to lose at this rate! It had been the third time this week when she had been missing from the Dungeon. He decided to sort out the thing once and for all. It was his last year at Hogwarts and he was damned if Slytherin did not win the House Cup this time.

o-o-o-o-o-o-

He found her in the Astronomy Tower – alone, though. She sat near a window over-looking the Quidditch Pitch. He knocked on the door first in order to avoid startling her.

"Draco?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Did you follow me here?" she sounded annoyed.

"No, I searched for you. So? Why are you here? Do you know how much trouble we'll get into if a teacher catches us?"

"What would you care?" she spat out angrily.

"Do you know how many points Slytherin will lose?" he said to make his point clear.

She looked away. "I don't really care."

"Pansy," he said, with uncommon gentleness, which immediately put her on guard, "why are you like this?"

"_You_ don't need to be like this," she said coldly. "You don't have to be, Draco. I have seen the darker, uglier side of you – I will not be charmed by your tenderness."

He cupped her face and turned it towards himself. Though his lips were curled in a small smile, his eyes clearly showed his irritation.

"Dear future wife, I would not be so annoying to my future lord if I were you."

Her expression hardened and she jerked away his hands. "I won't marry you," she declared, aggravated by his self-confidence.

"I would like you to try that out, Parkinson!" he said nastily, moving away from her and pulling his cloak tightly about him. "If you will not come back with me immediately, I will inform Professor Snape first thing in the morning!"

"You know what, _Malfoy_? I really don't care about that old bat!"

With that she pushed past him and stalked off. Draco did not follow her. He would talk to Snape. He had stopped giving empty threats now – especially to his 'friends'.

o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione lay on her bed, thinking about the little 'talk' which she had had with Professor Snape that morning.

"_Before we go further with apprenticeship course, Miss Granger, there is something that I want to know – and mind you answer honestly."_

"_Yes, sir," she replied, her curiosity rising._

"_Do you truly wish to pursue this field?"_

_Her face went slightly pale. "Yes, sir."_

"_Honestly, Miss Granger."_

"_Why won't I, sir?" she countered, keeping her tone respectful._

"_I don't know," he said, his eyes suspiciously emotionless._

_He somewhat scared her. Had he been reading her mind or something?_

"_Remember, Miss Granger," he said, as she turned back to her book, "you have only one life to live – it would be folly to waste it on something that you do not want to do – that would make you… unhappy."_

_She regretted her impulsive response, but she said it nevertheless, "What do you know?"_

_The hatred and desperation rang clear in her voice. She wasn't sure against who it was directed._

"_I am twenty-two years your senior, young lady," he said coldly before turning back to his marking._

She sighed and rolled over. Who said understanding came with age? He was the most unreasonable person she had ever seen in her life. And yet… he had been the only one to understand.

She blinked furiously to stop the tears from falling. She was not going to cry. Not again. Not now. She had given up on that now. She had dried herself out. The only thing left now was making a way – in what she had chosen in full possession of her senses.

Maybe that was what infuriated her so much – that there was no one to blame but herself. She realized it only too well.

Unable to sleep and feeling the dull ache in her head, she got up. A little night-time stroll wouldn't harm her. She needed to clear things with herself. She needed to think. And she wasn't sure she could accomplish that with Parvati snoring near her.

o-o-o-o-o-o-

She came to the window opposite an empty classroom just a floor above the dungeons. It overlooked the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione sat down on the window sill.

She knew why she had chosen to want to become a Potions Mistress – it was one of the highest honours she could ever achieve in the Wizarding World, and that was just what she wanted to do. Slytherins', especially Malfoy's, constant taunts about her being a "Mudblood" had aggravated her. She wanted to prove what no Muggle-born had done before. She decided to be a Potions Mistress. However, she wasn't sure that was what she really wanted.

A low grinding noise interrupted her thoughts.

It seemed to be coming from somewhere close at hand. It was as if a large creature was grinding its teeth.

Suddenly afraid, Hermione stood up. She looked about but there seemed to be nothing amiss. But the eerie sound persisted. Unfortunately, it seemed to be coming from the direction of the staircase which led to Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione glanced helplessly at the other set of steps leading to the dungeons.

As the voice grew louder, a chill shiver of fear ran down her spine. Her dismay rising, she realized that she had not brought her wand with her. She had no other option but to run down the staircase leading to the dungeons.

o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco was in a truly foul mood. It wasn't just the fact that Pansy was standing up to _him_. It was the fact that _Pansy_ was standing up to him. And she was supposed to be his best friend and future wife.

Somewhere in the past year, the "friend" thing had vanished. Maybe it was the time when he had French-kissed her, or maybe later when they had had sex for the first time. Whatever it was, it had wiped off the comfort zone that was supposed to be there between them.

Complaining to Professor Snape won't be enough, he decided. Something harder was needed to put Pansy in her place.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps. Who could be out this late?

As he turned, the student came to a halt.

_Well, well, well…_

"What are you up to now, Mudblood?"

He pulled out his wand, if he required that by any chance. He didn't want to be caught unawares. It had to be one of the "Golden Trio's" tricks.

She glared at him, but then suddenly grew pale.

Turning around, he saw why.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," said the Potions Master icily. "Follow me."

o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione was somewhat surprised to find Pansy Parkinson already sitting in Snape's office, looking extremely put out. A look of hatred passed between her and Malfoy as she looked up to see her.

"So. Was this by some prior arrangement? In that case, explain yourselves," ordered Snape in his idiosyncratic dangerous voice.

None of the three spoke a word.

"Mr. Malfoy."

"I found Parkinson missing, sir. I was out looking for her."

Snape raised a brow and turned his head to Pansy, who very much looked like she was never ever going to explain anything even if he hexed her into the next millennium.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, go back to your dormitories. And if you are found wandering about again, I shall be forced to hand out detentions."

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"Miss Granger, how long do you propose to keep me waiting?" said Snape, after a long spell of silence in which Hermione stared determinedly at her fingers.

"I needed to think," she said softly, feeling so foolish. "About what you said to me earlier."

"I see. And why couldn't your thinking be done in the confines of your dorm?"

She said nothing, just glanced at him and then went back to study her fingers with unseeing eyes.

"Look at me when I am talking to you."

Her hands balled into fists as looked up at him, glaring. "I just… I just needed to move about… okay, I can't explain it. I am sorry for breaking rules. Can I go now? Please?"

He looked pensively at her. "Miss Granger, it is very difficult to keep you and your friends safe when all of you are determined to get into trouble. There is a reason why curfew is until ten o'clock."

"I know. But I…"

_Merlin_! How was she to explain anything to him when nothing was clear to _her_?

"Thirty points from Gryffindor," he said, as he went to the door and opened it, "and detention tomorrow."

"What?"

"You broke rules, Miss Granger."

Oh, how she wanted to scream at him! The injustice! It was all right for his little snarky Slytherins to strut around after midnight, but she couldn't!

"This," she said, looking icily at him, "is exactly why I am doing what I don't really want to do – the prejudice, the discrimination. This is exactly what I shall have to bear being a Muggle-born – Harry Potter's best friend, moreover. And you tell me that I am wrong! How can I be wrong in wanting to earn a place in the world I belong to? In wanting to prove my worth to wizards – wizards like _you_!"

His face remained scarily impassive as she spoke.

"I know," he said simply. "But I warn you against such a course."

"If not for that course, I shall always be treated like a dishrag!"

"You care too much for the people's opinion," he said disdainfully.

"How can anyone live without it?"

"You mean that you can live without _yourself_ but with everyone else's opinion?"

The confusion flickered on her face.

"I forget you are too young to understand," he said, more to himself than to her. "Learn it the hard way, if you want to. Come, I shall escort you to the Gryffindor Tower."

She looked inquisitively at him. "Because of the creature on the above floor?"

"Something, which you shall refrain from mentioning to anybody," he said sternly.

o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco lay on this bed, sleepless. Why the hell had that Gryffindor come down here? She seemed to be running from something. Not that he _cared_, but whatever could have made her react so? In his five years' worth of Gryffindor acquaintance, he had realized one thing very well – they were not easily scared. It was a very annoying realization, but it was so. Particularly, that little Mudblood.

Mudblood… it was such a familiar word to him that he used it without any conscious realization of having done so. It wasn't as terrible as a curse-word to him as it was to everyone else. For Draco Malfoy, it was overused.

He wondered if that girl would be as traitorous as Pansy was becoming. Or only Slytherins were supposed to be mean traitors? He thought not – Sirius Black had betrayed his best friend. The Dark Lord ought to try winning over Weasel to their side and kill Potter in a similar fashion as his father died. But that would definitely be a hard task – with Dumbledore guarding them and Granger always so… well, perceptive. It discomfited him… the way she regarded him sometimes. As if she knew that he would be taking the Dark Mark this Christmas.

He would often tell himself not to be foolish. Of course, the Mudblood won't know anything about when he was to take the Dark Mark.

Mudblood… Half-blood… they were serving a half-blood. Why was a half-blood keen on wiping off others like him? Why did they – ancient pureblood lineages – bow down to him? Because he was Salazar Slytherin's heir, his father had once told him and warned him never to ask such questions again. They might as well bow down to Mudblood Granger, he had thought rudely. She was as damned clever as Merlin herself.

It was painful to admit that. He had thought Hogwarts would be an easy ride for him. But no, that girl had to come and ruin it all. He hated that know-it-all. He hated her hand-waving. He hated everything about her from her bushy brown hair to her small feet. If there had been no Mudblood better than him at school, his father won't humiliate him as much as he did.

But no matter how much he hated that girl, she wouldn't stop dominating his thoughts.

With a frustrated growl, he turned and pulled the covers over his head. Enough of her!

o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione rubbed her itching eyes and sighed softly. She had had little sleep for the past few days. Her head seemed to be in a constant state of haziness – all things were so confusing!

She put down the ingredients on the worktable and began slicing the bezoar.

It was all Snape's fault, she decided. If he did not confuse her, everything would be… fine. As a rule, he hardly talked to her and when he did, he made her angry. She ought to think twice about this apprentice thing. Her life would turn upside down if she continued this way.

She looked about for her mortar and pestle.

And yet, she couldn't leave him. He was one of the best Potions Masters in the world and the only one who, to Hermione's knowledge, took on Muggle-born apprentices. The wizarding world still differentiated heavily in terms of blood status.

She glanced briefly at her "Master" intently marking the papers then went back to stirring the potion – five times clockwise, seven anti-clockwise and again nine times clockwise.

Plus Draco Malfoy was bothering her more than ever. He had always hated her because she was to him "a Gryffindor Mudblood know-it-all". All three giving him reasons to hate her. She was quite used to bear insults for him. But recently, his malice had taken new-bounds and he would mostly insult her in class in front of everyone or in some place where a lot of persons could hear him.

She had barely restrained Harry and Ron from hexing Malfoy just a few hours ago. Although, she thought, they might track him down on their own. She wished they would...

Resting her weary feet as she waited for the potion to simmer to completion, she rested her head on the table and closed her eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco re-read the letter for yet another time. Like a true Malfoy, his expression did not betray the turmoil of emotions in him.

Finally, this Christmas, he would be made a Death-Eater. The Dark Lord was in a hurry to recruit new members. Dumbledore and his allies had caused them great losses.

He had always wanted this – ever since he had seen 'it' in one of his father's books, he had wanted 'it' on his forearm. 'It' symbolized power to him – absolute, ultimate power.

He couldn't believe he was so close to receiving the Dark Mark.

"Draco?"

He looked up, startled. Blaise Zabini was regarding him with a thoughtful look. Draco had always been wary of Blaise. He was the only Slytherin who had no relations to the Death-Eaters. In fact, now that Draco thought about it, he had no idea of anything about Blaise Zabini.

"I am fine," said Draco, more to convince himself than Zabini and went out.

o-o-o-o-o-o-

Professor Snape frowned as the minute to take the potion off the flame came near but his apprentice did not wake up. He would have not have allowed her to fall asleep and abandon her potion in such a careless fashion. But… he decided to overlook it.

In the end, he got up to extinguish the fire and put the potion under a Stasis Charm.

Hermione stirred slightly but did not wake up.

Debating whether to wake her up and take points off her or… well, he couldn't think of anything else to do.

"Miss Granger!"

When she did not wake up, he tentatively put his hand on her shoulder and repeated her name louder.

She woke up with a start.

"Professor…" she murmured groggily, rubbing her eyes.

"Twenty points off Gryffindor for your carelessness," he said curtly. "And a twelve foot essay on the consequences of over-heating the Draught of Unconsciousness."

He instantly regretted his last statement. She would probably enjoy it.

Taking in the now safe cauldron and the lingering smell of fire, she replied, "Yes, sir."

Her tone confirmed his suspicion.

As she went away after cleaning the workplace and trying to stifle her yawns, he put some potion in a vial and sniffed it. It smelled all right, was of correct colour and constancy. It was probably perfect as ever.

It amazed him how sincerely she could work on something she probably did not like much. He recognized it too well as one of the times when intelligence became more of a burden than anything else. Unconsciously, he rubbed his left forearm.

Why was he so interested in her, anyway? She was merely another student – who hated him and dreamed of the day when she would leave Hogwarts. He ought to stop thinking about her. But he couldn't… he just couldn't…

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End file.
